I Know Everything
by chemiglee
Summary: Ryder and his son visit a museum. Traces of Rynique. Just fluff and cuteness.


Ryan_ loves_ dinosaurs.

"I wanna be a pay - pally - pallytologist when I grow up," Ryan lisps. He's ready for the museum. His backpack is fully stocked with a "field notebook", which was an old composition book of Ryder's from the New Directions days, just made over. Along for the ride are a set of his favorite species, rendered in plastic: _Stegosaurus_, _Brontosaurus_, and _Iguanadon_. The edge of a glossy pamphlet sticks out of Ryder's jacket pocket (_Come see the Raptors_!) but Ryan, going against type - as he does in many respects - bubbles on about the best dinosaur there ever was, which is so not _Tyrannosaurus rex_, because that's what everyone else at school is into.

Ryder holds his son's hand very carefully while he chatters. He's just a little boy. Ryan takes a big gulp of fresh springtime air. " - And then I'm gonna dig up all the leftover bones. Like the best one. The best one is _Arkey - Rkayopterrix_. It glided for short times, but it didn't fly."

Ryan reaches around and scratches at the back of his head with the snout of _Triceratops._ He'd left _Archaeoptery_x at home - he'd cried for Dad to turn around, but he couldn't, and then the battered old Ford was suddenly filled with disappointed howls as Ryder rushed through traffic and broke all the laws. Ryder hoped she hadn't forgotten the time, but she was so busy now, he wouldn't blame her for being a few moments late.

"I know he did," Ryder says. "He lived in trees and he was only the size of one of those - " and he swings his son up into his arms and starts stomping, Godzilla-style, behind a blue-and-green city pigeon pecking at a french fry on the sidewalk. It takes off swiftly, prize in beak, and Ryan laughs, sounding so much like his mother that it catches at his father's throat. He reaches out for the fluttering bird and drops _Triceratops_on the pavement; Ryder leans down, picks it up; drops it again, and has to put Ryan down to get it the second time.

Ryan's sharp eyes catch it. "They did," Ryan says pertly, and picks up _Triceratops_ before Ryder can get his distracted hands on it. "There were boy ones and girl ones and there were some like Mom, too."

"How do you know that?" Ryder smiles, and ruffles the top of his head.

"I know everything," Ryan says. He squares his small shoulders and looks into his father's eyes with dark eyes and utter calm, syllables all separated and well-thought out. "I know you're nervous."

Ryder changes his opinion: his son is an odd mix of old man and little boy instead, a mix of everything: Ryder's dad is a professor of paleontology, but Unique's dad is trying to get Ryan into Legos because (so she says) her dad wanted to be an architect but never made it there. Which all leads back to dinosaurs, because the first thing Ryan did with them was to build a blocky green tower that he triumphantly named_Maiasaura_.

Ryder sighs. "I know what's going on, Dad," repeats Ryan patiently and pokes his straw through the top of his juice box, willing himself to wait for his dad to pick up on it. "You wanna tell me somethin'."

"You think so?" and Ryder pulls him onto a black iron bench, bag swinging. Their packed lunch is healthy today: ham and cheese sandwiches, carrot sticks with ranch dip, and apple slices. Ryan picks out the apple to start. Ryder soldiers on: "What do you think this is about?"

Ryan twists up his little mouth and dangles his legs off the edge. He looks down at his shoes: they have alligators on them, his favorites. "I heard Mommy talkin' on the phone and then you went to talk in your room."

"And?" Ryder drinks down half the water in his bottle.

"You're having a baby," Ryan says, mouth full. "And you brought me here to the museum 'cause you think here's better than at home and Mom's comin' here too."

"What do you think about that?"

"I dunno," his son says, and swallows. Ryder's not sure if it was food. "Paylytoligists think dinosaurs laid eggs in a nest, so Jimmy at school says I should already have a brother or sister since I came from an egg and so would they."

"Sometimes babies are twins or triplets, but people don't come from eggs," Ryder says.

"Ya, they do, sort of." Ryan makes what he thinks is a ferocious lizard-eating-his-food face before demolishing his carrot. "Moms have eggs and dads don't." _Crunch_.

"How did you know moms have eggs?"

"I know everything," Ryan repeats again, with a faint roll of his eyes.

"Mom doesn't have eggs," Ryder points out.

"No, she doesn't, and that's weird, 'cause she's still my mom," Ryan muses. "I came from another egg, but you and Mom love me so that makes Mom Mom and you Dad."

"We're just another kind of family," Ryder explains. "Just like _Archaeopteryx_ is another kind of dinosaur, and you don't have to come from your mom's egg to belong to your mom."

"I knew that!" Ryan huffs, and grabs at Ryder's leftover half instead of opening up his own, making a half-chortle of triumph as he does.

"I know one thing you don't." Ryder unwraps his son's rejected sandwich, eyes dancing. "I know if it's a boy or a girl."

"That doesn't matter," Ryan snorts. "They're gonna be what they need to be."

"It doesn't," Ryder agrees, gravely, "and we're going to support them no matter what, even if it's hard. But you and I are gonna keep this a secret from Mom, because she was going to tell you herself."

"Dinosaurs can keep a secret," Ryan nods to himself, "They're so secret we don't even know how they died."

"I love dinosaurs," and Ryder drapes his long arm about his son's shoulders, eyes scanning the crowds. Unique should be getting out of rehearsal for her lunch break, too.

"I love you too, Dad." Ryan looks up, so endearingly young: round eyes, soft hair, mini-khakis. All of a sudden, he seems vulnerable, and his shoulders slump in a little. Ryan is scary precocious and talks like a grown-up, but, right now, he is a little boy, and his voice sounds small. "And you'd love me still, right, even though there's gonna be another baby?"

Ryder remembers holding him in his arms, and then, later, his first word, pushed out as he giggled, threw his alphabet block away and held out his two chubby arms towards him: _Daddy_. "That's why I was nervous, little guy. And as long as you're okay with that, but yeah, champ, we're always going to love you."

"Just as long as they're not like me," Ryan burps loudly, scaring another distant dinosaur relative away from his feet. He magically regains that cloak of reassurance, becomes again that serious little expert on everything. "_Rawr_, that was a good sandwich, Dad, even if it wasn't moss or turtle eggs."

"Oh, I'm sure no one else is like you." Ryder laughs. "And that's just fine with me."


End file.
